INFINITE grief! amazing woe! Behold my suffering Lord! Both earth and hell conspired His death, According to His Word.
O, the sharp pangs of smarting pain My dear Redeemer bore, When savage whips and rugged thorns His sacred body tore.
But my own sins, my cruel sins, His chief tormentors were; For every sin became a nail, And unbelief the spear.
’Twas I that brought such judgement down Upon the guiltless One; Break, then, my heart, and weep my eyes! To feel what I have done.
Come, mighty grace, my stony heart Cause now to melt and flow, Till deep repentance draws me near, Thy pardoning voice to know.
Isaac Watts, 1674-1748‡